The Legend Of Deathwalker By David Gemmell

‘I have heard of him. He trained you and helped you to become a champion. After you left Mashrapur, he was the first fighter in Circle history to regain his championship. He retired six years ago, after losing to Proseccis in a bout that lasted for almost two hours.’

A servant brought a jug and filled two goblets. ‘Refreshing,’ observed Druss, as he drank.

‘The juices of four fruits,’ said Klay. ‘I find them invigorating.’

‘I prefer wine.’

‘They say red wine feeds the blood,’ agreed Klay, ‘but I have always found it inhibits full training.’ For several heartbeats the men sat in silence, then Klay leaned back on his couch. ‘You are wondering why I invited you here, are you not?’

‘I had thought it was an attempt at intimidation,’ said Druss. ‘Now I do not believe that.’

‘That is gracious of you. I wanted you to know that I was dismayed to hear of the prophecy. It must be galling for you. I know that I always find it hateful when politics intrudes on what should be honest competition. Therefore I wanted to set your mind at rest.’

‘How do you plan to do that?’

‘By convincing you to fight to win. To give it your very best.’

Druss leaned back and looked hard at the Gothir Champion. ‘Why is it’, he asked, ‘that my own ambassador urges me to an opposite course of action? Do you wish to see your King humbled?’

Klay laughed. ‘You misunderstand me, Druss. I have watched you fight. You are very good, and you have heart and instinct. When I asked Shonan how he saw us both, he said, “If I had to put all my money on a fighter it would be you, Klay. But if I had to have someone fight for my life, it would be Druss.” I am an arrogant man, my friend, but it is not an arrogance born of false pride. I know what I am, and I know what I am capable of. In some ways, as my physician friends tell me, I am a freak of nature. My strength is prodigious, but my speed is extraordinary. Stand up for a moment.’

Druss did so, and Klay positioned himself an arm’s length away. ‘I shall pluck a hair from your beard, Druss. I want you to block me, if you can.’ Druss readied himself.

Klay’s hand snapped forward and back, and Druss felt the sting as several hairs were torn clear. His own arm had barely moved in response. Klay returned to his couch. ‘You cannot beat me, Druss. No man can. That is why you must not concern yourself with prophecies.’

Druss smiled. ‘I like you, Klay,’ he said, ‘and if there was gold to be won for plucking hairs, I think you’d win. But we can talk about that after the final bout.’

‘You will fight to win?’

‘I always do, laddie.’

‘By Heavens, Druss, you are a man after my own heart. No give in you, is there? Is this why they call you the Legend?’

Druss shook his head. ‘I made the mistake of befriending a saga poet. Now everywhere I go he makes new stories, each more outlandish than those that came before. What astonishes me is that they are believed. The more I deny them, the more widespread is the belief they are true.’

Klay led Druss back outside into the garden training area. The other athletes had gone now, but servants had lit torches. ‘I know the feeling, Druss. Denial is seen as modesty. And people like to believe in heroes. I once lost my temper during training and I struck a stone statue with the blade of my hand. Broke three bones. There are now a hundred men who claim the power of my blow shattered the statue into a thousand pieces. And there are at least twenty more who swear they saw it done. Will you stay and dine with me?’

Druss shook his head. ‘There’s a tavern I passed coming here. I smelt a spiced meat dish being prepared, and have had a taste for it ever since.’

‘Were the windows of the place stained blue?’